It Was Foolish! Positively Wicked! Oh So Very Bad!
by JRTT
Summary: This is a take on a playground theme called 'Ludicrously Bad Sex'. It's a D&E One-shot.


This story was part of a Playground theme on A Happy Assembly called 'Ludicrously Bad Sex'. Everything below is taken from how it was posted there. I don't consider it high angst but D&E are not married to each other soooo...there was a lot of commentary on how to resolve it. Tons of murder was committed lol. Perhaps you guys can assist. It's meant to be a one-shot but who knows!?

The premise, there can only be bad sex between D&E in a context, not in actuality. That context being if they are NOT married to each other. One would expect that two persons engaging in sex and married to others (adultery actually) would be aware that what they are doing or have done was both ludicrous and bad. And that IS there...but it was also quite good...

To set the scene, there was no northern tour for E, no Pemberley meeting. No Lydia eloping and Bingley was so angry with Darcy over the 'Jane issue' that he cut him completely...Darcy could not contrive a way to return unless he ignored her warning that he would be the last man she would ever marry. So he stayed away and life continued.

But inevitably, as this particular couple is prone to doing, providence steps in and throws them in bed together. If you are looking for truly ludicrous funny sex..this is not THAT story...lol...I just played on the words a little...yesssss, perhaps it is a bit overdone and a bit unrealistic...but maybe...just as unrealistic as the original...or perhaps, alternatively, TOO realistic...anyhoo...

LONG LIVE D&E SEX!

*runs away*

 **It was foolish, positively wicked, oh so very bad!**

...

Six months after Hunsford, as Elizabeth watched a glowing Charles Bingley reach for her sister's hand as Jane walked by his side...she sighed. Her companion's uncharacteristic silence did nothing to alleviate her internal distress. It was soon broken however.

"La Lizzy! Look at Mr Bingley! So very besotted he is!"

"Yes, very besotted." Was the calm rejoinder.

"And Jane! She lets him! When I get married to my redcoat, I daresay I should ask him to leave something for the bedroom, if he had to behave like such a moon calf around me!" Her sister declared resolutely.

"I should wonder Lydia, at what you know or think you know about men and bedrooms. But I ought to be much too afraid to ask!" Her sister cried.

"Oh, I know, Harriet told me. The Colonel…oh when she first told me about it I could hardly keep my countenance when next I saw him! Harriet says he make a big business of getting on top of her. Or in her words, "he rolls on top of me and makes funny noises and puts himself _inside_ me!" Can you imagine Lizzy? Inside her! Then he moans and says all sorts of stupid things, at least that is was Harriet says...then he rolls off and drops asleep."

As Lydia laughed at the picture in her mind, her sister gasped at the knowledge that here was a young lady, almost still a girl, five years her junior who had a more intimate awareness of relations between a man and a woman than she _ever_ did! But would I have liked to? The thought crossed her mind blithely. She was not too sure that she would not have liked to. Most heartily however, was she grateful to her father for adhering to her advice in refusing to send Lydia to Brighton! With Lydia's natural daring and the advice and information of one Harriet Foster, there may have been no end to the evils that could have befallen her.

For herself that summer, she also had to face disappointments, and some of those of the acutest kinds, although none knew but herself. Due to sudden business commitments arising for her uncle, she had had to forego her anticipated pleasures in her northern tour. As happened, it was eventually postponed and then, ultimately, abandoned. She had released the idea of it with certain sadness; it had held her last vestige of hope for the county of Derbyshire. Ridiculous hope she now knew. His friend Mr Bingley arrived just before Michaelmas, as Netherfield was again reopened and, by the end of September, he and Jane were engaged. It was, she thought ruefully, the end and natural conclusion to what had been a most frustratingly bad year for love.

Two weeks later Elizabeth learnt from her mild inquiry that "no, I do not think he will be Elizabeth. We...errr...had a bit of a falling out you see, Darcy and I. I am not sure he will be attending the wedding, or indeed, that I should wish him to."

This shade of implacable resentment on Mr Bingley's part was heretofore unknown to Elizabeth and though she was happy that Mr Bingley could show resoluteness of mind. It could not come at a moment that could have given her greater distress. She learnt to tamp down her emotions and temper her mind however.

Eight weeks later, at the wedding ceremony of her most beloved sister, Elizabeth Bennet at last despaired of Fitzwilliam Darcy and reconciled herself to the idea that he was gone from her life. She did not, however, discard him. She wrapped him up rather neatly and placed him, the memory of him _and_ his letter in a very remote, but not inaccessible, sacred corner of her heart.

 ** _Five years later_**

Elizabeth was bored.

As her eyes scanned the ballroom crush, they landed on the back of her husband. A taller than average man he was. She watched in something akin to fascination as his shoulders moved in rhythm with his speech. He was making love to two female members of the peerage as was his wont. He was a notorious flirt. It was one of his many qualities that drew him to her. He was a wonderfully handsome and openly engaging man. Women loved him she well knew, but he, he loved his wife. If he had affairs, she knew nothing about them.

When she had first met him while staying at her uncle's house in town in the spring of 1812, she was of a mind to meet a man, fall in love and get married. He was a tradesman and the son of a tradesman but that signified little to her. Eight years older than her, he was well on his way to being very successful and very rich. The latter of which was their passport to a higher life especially as they had just bought an estate in Hampshire. Her status _now_ was what it had ever been. And now here they were, enjoying some taste of her husband's success...and she was most decidedly…bored.

With resolution she turned and headed outside to the balcony to steal some fresh air and reflect a bit on how she happened to be there. Soon, as she knew he would, she heard the light thread of familiar steps behind her cross the marble floor.

"Oh darling." Elizabeth said without turning around. The cool night's air soothing her warm brows as it picked up slightly about her.

"I am so happy you came out. Can we not leave this monstrous crush soon? I am most excessively bored out of my mind! It is all insipidity and nothingness!"

"I am sorry you should think so Miss Bennet." The calm modulated voice definitely did _not_ belong to her husband and yet her pulse raced when she heard it. Looking straight ahead of her as she fought to quiet her emerging rampant emotions, Elizabeth finally broke the silence by drawing on a memory. She did not however, recognise the dusky quality of tone her voice had taken.

"Certainly _this_ time Mr Darcy you mean to frighten me by coming in all this state to find me." She turned now to look at him. He was as handsome as he had ever been, moreso even- A man at the prime of his form and his life. She took him all in at a glance.

"I cannot deny it. I caught a glimpse of you as you exited the door and then I had to satisfy the burning desire to know that it _was_ indeed you." He stood close to her, closer than had ever been his wont in all her previous experience with him.

"And, are you thus satisfied?" She looked at him then, unflinching, straight in the eye. The flare of passion as his pupils dilated was unmistakable.

"No."

"You look very well" he said, casting his eye over her. "Exactly how I have always pictured you to look in this setting."

"Have you indeed!" She said smiling.

"Yes." It was simply said but well laden with meaning she knew.

"And you look." She paused as she took in his clean shaven look, his sumptuous neckcloth and the well-tailored cut of his clothes. "You look exceedingly well" she said softly. He had the grace to blush unseemly. If she did not know any better, she would have thought that five years on, her power over Fitzwilliam Darcy was as strong as it had ever been. But she did not know any better. And at the same time she _did_ know better.

"I have married, you know, these past four plus years." She looked out into the night's sky as she said it, so if he had experienced any change by this knowledge, she did not see.

"I would never have believed you to be still unattached." He said with a wry smile. "There was no chance of that happening. Anyone else perhaps, but never you. It would not have taken any man long to recognise your worth. I expect, now that I've found you, to find you married. As am I."

 _Expect perhaps, but expectations do not preclude disappointment and a somewhat ineffable sadness._ Elizabeth did not give voice to her thoughts however. They held no meaning and were as substantial as trying to keep water within her bare hands.

"My husband' she continued "is somewhere in there, a Mr Faulkner, Mr Eric Faulkner."

"I believe I saw him" Mr Darcy replied, recalling the man who was two steps ahead of him to follow her out here and who then unaccountably changed his mind as he studied, for a moment, the woman outside. He then observed him speaking to the Master of Ceremonies, indicating to his liveried man outside, who stood by the door. The man, he assumed now to be Mr Faulkner, then left. That Lady Clarissa Belemy, one of his erstwhile companions for the night, followed a short time after, Darcy could not but see.

"Your husband" he continued, "may have left."

"Has he?" said Elizabeth, slightly perturbed. She turned again to face the outside.

"No doubt he has left a message for me."

"No doubt."

A bit of a silence ensued which Elizabeth soon curtailed.

"And what of Mrs Darcy, Mr Darcy? Shall you not introduce me to this lady?" She kept a forcibly light grip on her voice.

"That." He said with some asperity "is impossible I am afraid. She has gone to Bath these past three weeks to enjoy herself. Pemberley bores her greatly and London during the small season holds very little attractions for her."

"She is not of the Caroline Bingley mold then I gather, to extol the virtues of your estate with alacrity." Her tone was one of jest, but she saw the fleeting look of discomfiture settle on his features.

"No, she is not." After a pause, he added "I have lost Charles Bingley's friendship you know. But, in a way I admire that he has cut me. It augurs well that he is no longer so easy to be worked on."

"Indeed, and it was over my sister?"

"Yes."

"I did wonder about it. I, of course, have heartily forgiven your role in the affair. But perhaps, given your stronger friendship, _his_ disappointment was greater still."

" _You_ have forgiven me?"

"Heartily."

He drifted closer to her again and instinctively grasped her hand that rested close to his on the railing and drew it into his chest. She hardly dared to look at him, her pulse racing wildly.

"Elizabeth! Miss Bennet...Mrs Faulkner" He stumbled relentlessly, an expression of mortification and hope on his face. "Your forgiveness was most sought after! I have behaved most abominably to you!"

"No more than I to you, Mr Darcy." She responded as she reclaimed her hand from his grasp. She drew him away to the furthest alcove, where they were out of sight of any prying eyes.

"I have treated you most unfairly Mr Darcy and have long since realised how unjust and horrifyingly unfeeling were my words to you that April. I despaired of ever letting you know how truly sorry I was, and still am. Had I known that the opportunity would easily come upon me in a London small season, or indeed, _any_ season, rest assured it would have been attempted. Despite my having my father's aversion for the squalor of London." She spoke feelingly here in spite of her lighthearted tone, in an attempt to convey the depth of her emotions and how earnestly she had hoped to encounter him.

He could not but be moved.

"You are too good, too kind, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. That you could so very easily pardon, what for me, in remembrance, has long been a singular scene of abject abhorrence. The truth of your words could not be soon easily dispelled. I left Hunsford a bitter man, as you may well imagine. But I could not but grant you the justice of your perspective and the injustice of my own. I was most heartily ashamed of myself...my suit...my letter. I never treated you as a woman worthy of being pleased. And you were Elizabeth...you are...so very worthy. I was a man thoroughly undeserving of your love and affection."

As he spoke here, his voice tumbling out softly, warmly while his gloved hands held tightly onto the railing as if to steady himself, Elizabeth knew not what emotion overcame her and overrode all her sensibilities. Wishing she could slip her glove quietly from her hand, she reached up to caress his face, lightly tucking a stray curl behind his ear. It was a most intimate gesture. Varied emotions passed through her and she saw the same struggle reflected on his countenance as he reached to cover her hand with his, exhaling sharply. And she knew, at exactly the same moment that he did, when everything was damned straight to hell.

Drawing her body into his, there was only one slight moment of conflict on both their parts, one moment of wavering hesitancy before their lips finally touched. A tentative touch that soon gave way to a yearning and a need that was intense. They were as a drowning couple, drawing breath from each other as if their lives depended on it.

It was unexpected. It was frenzied. It took them both by surprise.

She felt overpowered at the full sensation of his lips, the sweetness of his taste, the headiness of his scent. She knew what it was to kiss, but kissing him was something she never imagined. It was different and so good, so very very good. She marveled at the pervasive warmth that spread through her under the caress of his hands, which moved first tentatively and then with greater firmness and possessiveness over her body. Her heart was racing, it was a dream, this is all a dream she thought, convinced until she felt herself being pulled tightly into him, fitting her to his body. Separating slightly, he murmured her name, it was such a plea that she bit her lip in despairing anger. They fitted together perfectly. Sensations, hitherto unknown to her, even as a married woman, coursed through her veins and swam through her body. She wanted more.

How often before she met her husband and long after even, had she lain awake and wondered how it would be to kiss this man? To love this man? No other, just this man and to be kissed and loved _by_ him? Yes, she had thought of him often enough. She knew she never inspired love in another as she had in him.

Their passion swelled silently. Music strummed in the background and London night sounds shadowed in the foreground and yet they kissed. The years seemed to slip away and all that were important seemed to reside in this kiss. Suddenly in her head was a rush of words declaring ardent, passionate love for her. The kiss deepened. She remembered his letter and how she had so longed for him to come back to her. Her hold tightened while at the same time the kiss gentled until they parted, breathless and shocked.

"Oh dear God!" She did not recognise the maddeningly strangled voice as her own as she braced herself against his body, her face buried into his shoulders. Then the tears came. He quieted her gently, taking such prodigious care of her that she laughed in spite of herself. He would have made her a most excellent husband. She smiled at the thought and then she remembered, in time to sober her mind and her emotions, she already had a husband.

"You must think me a terrible woman Mr Darcy, to have drawn you in with my art and allurements." She smiled up at him, fearing to meet his eyes. She heard a responding smile in his voice as he spoke.

"Believe me when I say, Mrs...Faulkner" He paused as if testing her name on his tongue, unclear as to how it would feel, then continued "I have long since come to terms with the effects of your arts and allurements on my person. You offer me nothing that I have not craved. There is nothing about you Elizabeth, that I will not always desire."

She regarded him with a glance that was as vulnerable as it was painful. His returning look was profound, instantly she recognised what she failed to see before. There was no way that she could mistake his completely unguarded display of longing and affection.

"I must go" she said suddenly "How do I look?"

"Passable" he said, amused. "You need only this to be perfect." Pulling her into him again, he delivered another swift, possessive kiss onto her lips, as if he marked her. She did not immediately release him as she caught his lower lips with her teeth. He smiled in her capture adding wickedly, as she released him to straighten his coat collar while he brushed her hair with his fingers.

"Now you are tolerable."

She shot him a look of hauteur. Then, as she composed herself to walk away, he once again reached for her hand impulsively.

"Regardless of what messages your husband may have left. I will convey you home. I shall be out in a few minutes; we will meet at the exit together. I will let the Master of Ceremonies know that I too am leaving. Did anyone else come with your party?"

"No" she negatived. It was not a usual thing for her husband to leave her as he did but no doubt he would be sending the carriage back for her and no doubt as well there was some trouble with the business that needed his immediate attention. She saw Mr Darcy's frown and bristled slightly that he should think ill of Eric.

"There is no need. Please do not trouble yourself on my behalf."

"No Elizabeth, that is, I suppose, I wished for more time with you." He chose the easier path of persuasion. She then easily acquiesced. To spend another fifteen or twenty minutes in his company would be a luxury.

There was an awkward moment as she took her place in the Darcy carriage. It was soon replaced with something entirely different as he moved to sit next to her, his bare hands slipping her gloves off as their fingers naturally intertwined. They spoke on mundane issues; where they lived, she told him about Reginald Park in Hampshire and he spoke of Pemberley. His sister was lately married, to a second son. He observed her as he mentioned it. She was surprised. "She married for love then?" He nodded. He did not mention that his own marriage was a form of self-inflicted punishment on himself. They, neither, had any children. He found that somewhat surprising for her since she had been married for more than two years longer than him, but he said nothing. His home was before hers on the drive and again impulsively, he asked if she wished to see it.

"It is no problem, I assure you. I have long wished to show it to you. My wife, Theresa, she dislikes it profoundly. It is much too old for her tastes. However, I think there is much with it that _you_ can appreciate."

Regardless of the impropriety involved in such a visit, Elizabeth agreed to stopping off first at Darcy House.

As they entered the house the butler moved silently to take their coats. He glanced at Elizabeth skeptically and Darcy caught his searching look.

"If I had not made a total and complete ass of myself five years ago, this woman would have been your mistress Yeats."

The shock on Elizabeth's face and the look of amusement that entered the butler's face was enough to have uttered such a statement. She pinched Darcy's arm as he led her on the grand tour causing him to grin in response. He was irrepressibly, inexplicably happy. He did not neglect a room on the family floors, stopping even at last in the Mistress's chambers which his wife never used claiming it to be old-fashioned and dowdy.

"It is exactly as how my mother kept it" he said quietly. She entered the room with an intrepid sort of trepidation, gliding her fingers in a surreal manner over the furniture. She moved as if in a dream to the bed.

"Come" she motioned as she patted the mattress "Sit next to me sir."

"Elizabeth, my darling, I did not invite you here to draw you into a seduction my love." He said, as he sat obediently next to her, reaching for her fingers. They both looked abstractedly at their joined hands. Then she turned to him, glancing at his lips before meeting his eyes. Her knuckles flexed as her fingers tightened around his.

"Did you not? Well perhaps I am. Would you care to be seduced sir?" She asked in a very mild tone. Releasing his hand, she reached across and drew him towards her by the edge of his cravat. It was the barest of motions.

"How often I have wondered what the taste of your neck would be like" she whispered as she gradually undid his carefully made up arrangement. 'Do you wish to be seduced sir?" She asked again, leaning over him as they sank slowly and inevitably onto the bed. Her lips grazed his body leading her impertinent tongue to undo them both. "Fitzwilliam" she breathe into his ear, "Let me seduce you."

Darcy groaned against her skin as his fingers tumbled her loosened hair all about her, his lips found hers and his arms wrapped themselves around her, pressing his body into her "Please! Oh god! Yes please Elizabeth." He moaned and it was a sound of anguish.

Suddenly there seemed to be a mad scramble to shed all clothes. Each wanted the other perfectly nude, bereft of anything that would separate their body on body contact. His lips travelled the length and breadth of her torso and she showed him such pleasures that she could give, such skills that she possessed that left him breathless and in want of mastery of his self-control. The moment he entered her was so singularly beautiful that he stopped to look down at her, as she looked up at him.

She was not married to him but he felt more her husband than at any other moment or with any other person in her life. She did not stop to think about it. When Darcy started to move, Elizabeth moved with him; a novel experience for him and lovemaking. And for her, never before had she encountered _this_ a scene of total abandonment and desire, by her and _for_ her. As he lost control of himself completely and poured himself into her, her muscles closed around him tightly as she climaxed and shuddered all around him. Tasting his sweat drenched body in amazement, tears stung her eyes, for Elizabeth the end had signaled a beginning, a new need. Finally, her legs drifted down from around him. There was an impressive quiet as they lay there together in darkness, silently contemplating the rest of their lives.

Without warning Darcy rolled over, placing her atop him. She sat up wickedly rubbing herself against him.

"This was very foolish of us" he said

"I know" she agreed. "Most ludicrous"

"It was very bad, very badly done between us"

"Yes sir, most wicked." She agreed again.

He flicked her nipple and drew her down towards his waiting lips.

"Again?" He queried, one eyebrow raised in question.

"If we will be foolish and we will be bad, we may as well be enthusiastic [1]." She was seriously playful as she smiled at him, her beauty aglow in her naked splendour.

"I have always loved you, you must know. I have never stopped" he whispered as she leaned in towards him.

"I would not be here if you had" she said, as he got her receiving answer in her kiss.

All too soon the night was over.

[1] Adapted from French novelist Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette


End file.
